


Of All The Gin Joints, On All The Planets…

by DarknessBetweenTheStars



Category: The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Jokes, Bar Room Brawl, Doggy Style, F/F, F/M, Hate Sex, Interspecies Relationship(s), Love/Hate, Secret Relationship, Sexual Tension, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, pent up rage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:27:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29018184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarknessBetweenTheStars/pseuds/DarknessBetweenTheStars
Summary: Wake has something Gideon the First wants. And he'll do whatever it takes to get it back."He stopped. Turned back, and walked toward her. Grabbed her by the hair and yanked hard, pulling her flush against him, and kissed her again. Kissed her like his whole life depended on it. Like a dying man wandering the desert, getting one last taste of water before he perished."
Relationships: Gideon the First/Wake | Awake Remembrance of These Valiant Dead, Pyrrha Dve/Wake | Awake Remembrance of These Valiant Dead
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20
Collections: TLT Kink Meme





	Of All The Gin Joints, On All The Planets…

**Author's Note:**

> For the TLT Kink Meme prompt: "Wake/G1deon hatefucking: They do not like each other. There's probably a body count."

It was Tuesday. Tuesday meant Poker Night, which the Commander had been looking forward to all week. Temps on the backwater planet she was currently stationed on had been soaring hotter every day, and the amount of bureaucratic stupidity she’d been faced with had quickly become insufferable. She’d earned the three beers she had already downed with sweat and blood, and had no plans of stopping her consumption any time soon.

She wiped the sweat off her face with a dirty bar napkin, and brushed her wild, rust colored hair out of her eyes. She was in no mood for anyone’s bullshit. Despite the occasional rowdiness of the game, she expected she’d be faced with a much needed quiet night filled with cold beer, conversation, and gambling. She realized her fuck-up the minute the thought crossed her mind. 

She glanced up from her beer just as the front door swung open. It crashed into the tavern’s wall with a loud bang, and then _they_ were there. 

A wizard shit walks into a bar… 

The joke almost wrote itself.

It had been months since their last encounter. She’d replayed every moment in her head, over and over again in the dark of the night in her private quarters. Ran her fingers over each bruise with a reverence. Her heart raced at the memory of their gasping, hot breath tickling her ear, her cunt throbbed remembering the feel of every thrust that had left her breathless. She never could decide what she liked the most— the fighting or the fucking.

Discovering what they were there for this time would be an adventure. Almost as much fun as figuring out which of them was actually darkening her doorstep. 

In all their times together, neither was ever much of a wordsmith. Tall, dark, handsome, and silent. Just as she preferred her men. And women. 

They met her eyes. 

Green. 

Gideon then. 

So it was going to be _that_ kind of night.

“You have something of ours,” he said, voice hoarse, like a pack a day smoker after an all night bender. “The Emperor wants it back.”

Ah. So that’s why he’d come. Shame.

You could see Cage, the barkeep slowly reaching down under the wooden bar’s thick mahogany counter for a rifle. The air felt charged with electricity, and every single patron in the bar stopped what they were doing to watch, on edge, as if sensing the storm to come.

“Stand down, Cage. I can handle this one. He won’t _really_ hurt me. At least not unless I ask him to… everybody out.”

“Commander?” someone behind you asked, concerned.

“You heard me. Out. Now.”

A few of the bars fellow patrons stood up so fast, their chairs fell over, clacking loudly onto the floor as they swiftly exited. But she knew tonight was about to get a hell of a lot messier.

She finally deigned herself to turn back and acknowledge her uninvited guest. 

“Well howdy Giddy,” she drawled. “Long time no see. What brings you all the way out to the free territories?”

“Cut the shit. You know why I’m here. Give it back.”

“Now why would I ever go and do something like that? Finder’s keepers.”

“Awake…my patience is growing thin. Don’t test me.”

“I love it when you say call me by my full name. But I don’t negotiate with terrorists. Or Necro-fucks,” she said. “You know that.”

“You sure have a funny way of showing it.”

He struck out like a bolt of lightning. But she was used to this old song and dance. She stood up, blocking his blow with her left hand, just as she swung her right.

The beer bottle smashed onto his head before he even had a chance to duck. 

Mere milliseconds passed, and the cut was already healing, unnaturally, in a way that disgusted her. But enough had blood spilled into his eyes to compromise his vision. His fist swung out again blindly, connecting with her sternum instead of her face, but it was still hard enough to send her flying backward into the bar. 

“You’re feisty today. I like it. Really _wakes me up inside_ , if you know what I mean.” 

She winked.

“Your kind are a menace and should be eradicated.” 

“That’s incredibly rich, coming from one of you.”

His spear swung out, lashing her forearm, more a threat of light violence than promise of eventual death. He rushed to meet her, pressing her further backward, grinding her spine into the bar. She frowned up at him. 

“You’re so cute when you’re angry.”

Something flashed in his eyes then. A brief moment of tenderness, gone in the blink of an eye. She found herself wondering when the last time was that anyone was gentle with him. When he’d last been hugged. Touched softly. Experienced tenderness. But that was not, and would never be their way. 

He’d made a mistake not restraining her. Her palm connected with his cheek, briefly stunning him. He lurched forward, his hands circling her neck, crushing her windpipe. Her eyes met his, defiantly, daring him to squeeze harder and finish the job. 

“Fuck you, Gideon,” she said.

And then smashed her mouth into his. He met the kiss, quickly taking control. Her mouth was forced open as his tongue sought hers like an invader; stroking and sucking, as she moaned into his mouth.

“That’s more like it.”

“Do you ever stop speaking?” he asked.

“Do all you wizard shits lose your ability to converse when you lose your souls, or are you just particularly unloquacious?”

“Where is it,” he grunted, tightening his grip on her neck.

“Not here,” she gasped.

He loosened his hands. 

“I don’t believe you. You lie.” 

“I’ve never lied to you. I don’t need to. It’s not even on this planet, not part of this mission. We’ve already handed it over for processing.” 

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “And fuck you.”

He turned away, as if he moved to leave, and walk right out the door. As unaffected as always. But they had unfinished business.

“Fuck me yourself, you coward!”

He stopped. Turned back, and walked toward her. Grabbed her by the hair and yanked hard, pulling her flush against him, and kissed her again. Kissed her like his whole life depended on it. Like a dying man wandering the desert, getting one last taste of water before he perished. 

He broke the kiss, spun her around, and pressed her face first into a nearby table. One hand tight on the back of her neck, he raised the other and smacked her hard on the ass. 

She grunted, savoring the mix of pain and pleasure that coursed through her. 

“You know I like it rougher than that. At least with you… she’s the tender one. She never fucks me like you do. Doesn’t hate me _quite_ as much.”

He swept his hand across the tabletop, knocking half-drunk beers and overflowing ashtrays to the floor, before shoving her body down even further. His palm crept up her shirt, pinching her nipple again and again, leaving her gasping.

“What are you waiting for you bastard? Why are you delaying the inevitable?”

His hand moved lower, down toward her waistband as he fumbled with the buttons of her trousers. Once he had access, he got straight to the main event, thrusting two callused fingers deep into her soaking wet cunt. She moaned, breath steaming back into her face as it reflected off the tabletop. 

“More.”

He removed his hand, ripped down her trousers, and fumbled awkwardly with his own, before the hot length of him thrusted deep into her cunt, sinking to the hilt. Each subsequent stroke left her moaning, louder and louder; left the table shaking like an earthquake synched up to their pleasure. 

His rough fingers stroked lazy circles around her clit. She felt her climax rushing closer. This would be quick and fast this time. No worries, there would surely be another. They were as eventual as the heat death of this system’s raging hot sun.

His thrusting increased in pace. She was moaning loud enough to wake the dead, but didn’t even care. She savored every second of it, her end crashing down on her like a tidal wave. He kept on going, before a few more rough strokes led to his own undoing, hot cum gushing inside her, filling her up just the way she liked it. 

His hands caressed the back of her head, tenderly, like a lover. But she did not fool herself. She knew what they really were. He pulled out, instantly missing the fullness of him inside her, the space between her legs deliciously sore and damp. She turned around to face him again, scooting her ass backward to sit on top of the table.

His eyes searched hers, before he spoke, looking reluctant to break the moment.

“You know I’m going to find it eventually.”

“Maybe. Maybe…but not here. Not today. Cigarette?” 

She reached down and pulled a pack out of her discarded trousers, handing him one as she lit her own. She leaned forward, pressing the red hot tip against his as he sucked in a breath. He pulled his pants back on. What could almost pass for a smile passed across his face.

“I had a feeling a little rough and tumble was all it would take to _bring you to life_ , you undead zombie fuck.”

He gave her an incredulous look, grunting in response, as he began to walk toward the door, boots crunching over broken glass as he moved.

He paused at the threshold, turning back for one last look. 

“You and I—we’re not done.” 

“Of course not!” she shouted, as the tavern door closed behind him. 

“See you soon, Giddy.”

**Author's Note:**

> * Cage, the bartender's full BOE name begins with "Some birds are not meant to be caged..."
> 
> From "Rita Hayworth And The Shawshank Redemption" by Stephen King.
> 
> _“Some birds are not meant to be caged, that's all. Their feathers are too bright, their songs too sweet and wild. So you let them go, or when you open the cage to feed them they somehow fly out past you. And the part of you that knows it was wrong to imprison them in the first place rejoices, but still, the place where you live is that much more drab and empty for their departure.”_


End file.
